Growing Pains- Epilogue

So this is it. The epilogue. I would like to take this chance to thank everyone, so very much, for sticking with me and following this story. This has taken me months, and I am really overjoyed at the response to it.

I've had a heck of a lot going on recently, and actually during the entire six or so months it took me to write this as well. This story, I think, has been my most complex story, the one I have put most effort into, because it means quite a lot to me. In a way, this was almost a way for me to try and work through some of the things in my own head.

After this, there will be another story that is currently in the process of being written. Due to my rather hectic schedule even over Christmas, it may be a while, but it will eventually be published. It is called 'Our Bitter End' and is about Legolas, Aragorn, Faramir and my OC Belhadron after the events of the War of the Ring. But at the moment, this is the end.

So to anyone who has reviewed, has offered their opinions or constructive criticisms of my work, to anyone who has followed or favourited this story, to anyone who has fangirled over LOTR and The Hobbit with me through reviews and messages, and most importantly, to anyone who is reading this now, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I mean it.

Hannon le, mellyn-nin.

Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

0-o-0-o-0

72 years later- Very late March, TA 3019.

Aragorn looked over at his friend, leant on the balcony high up above Minas Tirith. Below him, work was already starting on the ruined buildings within the city walls. There was almost constant travel in and out of the city, people heading out mainly to Osgiliath, beyond through Ithilien and onto the Morannon. Three days after returning to the city, three days after being crowned, and they were still bringing back bodies from the battlefield.

Yet it was slowly, ever so slowly, getting better. The Pelennor was gradually clearing, the main paths heading out across the fields now clear enough for travel. The dead were starting to be buried. The wounded were being looked after. It was over.

"It's going to take a long time to fix all of this," said Aragorn softly.

Legolas looked over at him. "We will do it," he said. "The hardest part is over."

"Are you sure?" asked Aragorn. "There is so much that has to be done. So much that needs rebuilding. And I am in charge now." He chuckled morosely. "I have spent so many years in the wild, hardly using my own name. I spent years upon years running from exactly this, even if I didn't know it at the time."

He was going to say more, but Legolas snorted in amusement, and Aragorn broke off to shoot him a confused look. "What?" he asked.

Legolas chuckled. "You sound so morose," he said with a smile. "And you are wrong, by the way. You weren't ever running. Some people just take a more roundabout way of getting to where they are meant to be."

Aragorn snorted. "You know Gandalf was completely right about going to the elves for advice. You are annoyingly cryptic, and I have Elrond for a father." He chuckled again, and draped one arm over Legolas' shoulder. The blond elf leaned into him slightly.

"Well, I've given some good advice over the years," Legolas said with a light smile. "I mean, it is all down to me that you got here."

It was Aragorn's turn to snort. "So Gandalf, my father and brothers have absolutely nothing to do with it?" he asked, nudging Legolas in the ribs. "Not to mention a huge amount of luck."

Legolas laughed. "An enormous amount of luck for all of us," he said. "And I was only joking. With or without me, you would still be here."

Aragorn shook his head. "No," he said fiercely. "You have saved my life before, and I am sure I would be a different person if you and I had never met." He smiled softly at the memory of balancing on branches in the pouring rain, of riding through Imladris, of sitting in front of a roaring fire in Legolas' rooms in Mirkwood, many years later, when he was a Ranger. He saw a similar smile on Legolas' face, and knew that he was thinking along the same lines.

"Besides," he said, coming back to the present. "I would much rather prefer a world with you standing on this balcony than a world with you buried beneath the leaves of Mirkwood."

Legolas' smile dimmed. "It came close," he murmured. "It came very close at times." And it had. There had been too many times to count, over his long life, in which he had come far too close for his, or his father's, or Belhadron's liking to giving up the battle. Mirkwood had been at war for hundreds, if not thousands of years. It had been inevitable.

But now…Now it was not. Now they were actually safe. It was weird. It was strange, thinking forwards and not having to forcefully push the thoughts of who would be dead in the next year out of his mind.

Aragorn sighed. "Are you also having trouble believing it is over?" he asked softly.

"You know I am," replied Legolas. And he definitely was. It felt like one really strange dream, this entire journey, since arriving in Imladris and seeing one small hobbit place a golden ring in front of them. And he was almost scared that it wasn't real, that soon he would pinch himself, just to check, and wake up.

If that happened, he didn't think he would be able to cope with it. Hope could be a treacherous thing.

He said as much to Aragorn and the man chuckled, shaking his head. "See, this is exactly what I mean when I say elves are too cryptic. I understand you, because I grew up with Elrond, Glorfindel and my brothers. But you will have to speak more plainly if you are going to spend more time around men. I'm pretty sure you can sometimes throw Gimli off track as well."

Legolas smiled softly. "It wasn't that cryptic," he said. "You know what I mean."

"I do," said Aragorn. "And I know, I really do know how hard it is, especially for you, to see that this is real. I have been fighting, really fighting, for about seventy years, ever since you and my brothers gave me that sword. You have been fighting for centuries."

"And the coat," said Legolas. "I know you haven't forgotten the coat. You were wearing it for our entire journey, even if it was so stained that it took me a few moments to recognise it." But he had recognised it pretty quickly, and felt surprisingly pleased at seeing the old coat, obviously well cared for if it had survived all those years. Elladan and Elrohir had told him that Arwen hated it, and sometimes schemed to get rid of it, but they had always stopped her before she had done anything. Aragorn knew, and had laughed, apparently, when his brothers had told him.

According to the twins, it was now Legolas' job to make sure Arwen didn't get rid of the coat, now they were in Minas Tirith. Apparently Elladan and Elrohir were assuming that he wouldn't be spending a huge amount of time in Mirkwood anymore.

They may have been right, though. Legolas did not know what it would be like to go home, but he already felt guilty. He knew, even though there had been no word yet from Mirkwood, that there had been vicious fighting in the forests. He didn't know who was dead, though he was certain his father was alright, and nearly sure Belhadron was as well. But he wasn't sure if he would be able to stay, not when so much had happened.

But those were decisions for another time, and he was jolted back to the present by Aragorn speaking again.

"I know hope can be treacherous," said Aragorn with a sigh. "I really do. And I know this is really hard. But did you know I still remember you writing, in that letter you left me all those years ago, that if you kept your heart, there would be hope. And I certainly tried to do that to the best of my ability over the years. It's your turn now. I promise you, this is true. We won."

Legolas smiled softly, and leant into Aragorn a little. "I know," he murmured.

"It doesn't mean that I am not terrified, though," said Aragorn with a grin. "Elbereth, I have no idea what I am meant to do. I have absolutely no idea what it going to happen next. To be honest, I am just glad that whatever is happening next, we are still all going to be here after it."

"And I don't have to constantly worry over what could kill you next," said Legolas with a grin. "I am glad I followed you, Aragorn. And no, I didn't follow the King, or the Ranger Strider, or even the shadow of what you could be. I know you think that sometimes, but I followed you, Aragorn, and it is you who is leaning on this balcony now. Not anyone else."

Aragorn chuckled. "At least that wasn't too cryptic," he muttered. He looked over at Legolas. "I am glad you followed me," he said. "I am glad you are here. But honestly, I sort of guessed that you would. I knew even back when I was a foolish child that your heart would prove to be too big for Mirkwood's borders."

Legolas smiled. "That is what your brothers said," he murmured. He looked over at Aragorn. "You are allowed to be afraid, mellon-nin," he said, noticing the signs in his friend of the looming fear hanging over most of them at this time. "Even a King is allowed to be afraid."

Aragorn snorted. "Because your father acts like he feels fear," he said dryly. Legolas laughed.

"True," he conceded. "Very true. But you know what I mean."

"Aye," said Aragorn. "I do." He looked over at Legolas. "Thank you," he said softly. "For everything."

"You should know by now, you don't have to say that," said Legolas with a smile. "But if you are, I should be thanking you as well. You were aptly named, Estel. It is not just men you inspire hope in."

Aragorn smiled softly. For a few moments they were silent, savouring the relative peace of the early morning. Legolas sighed, and then straightened from the balcony.

"There are things to do," he said. "We should go."

"Aye," said Aragorn, stepping away from the stone balustrade. "There is a kingdom to rebuild." He chuckled slightly. "And of course that doesn't sound terrifying."

Legolas laughed lightly as they headed back inside. "It doesn't sound terrifying at all."

The End.

'It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow up to be.' Albus Dumbledore